Passions Run
by Mezzo-chan
Summary: He’d been running for too long. He’d gotten stupid. VictorxMolly, futurefic


**Passions Run**

**By Mezzo-chan**

He'd been running for too long.

He'd gotten stupid.

Too many sleepless nights on the highway, too many lies told to security guards, too many meals comprised of old fish tacos and bags of Doritos.

The terrible conditions of being a fugitive had rotted his brain and now in a moment of weakness he'd screwed everything up.

He's staring forlornly at the hotel room ceiling now, wondering how it started.

He'd watched them come and go like a kind of stage play, wondering about the stability of the group.

Yet they'd accepted him for the most part.

And for a while, it was great.

Then Gert died.

And his new family started breaking apart at the seams.

Tears were shed, time passed, and friends slowly departed.

Over the years he watched each of them peel away, Chase, then Karolina, with Xavin close behind.

Nico tried to stay with them until the end, deep down she had really believed that the runaways would always run together.

She died believing that.

And then there were two. The babies of the team.

Him. And Molly.

And for a while, it was alright.

He remembered the first night it was just the two of them.

Him pumping his legs to get away from their attackers, her in tow.

And when she stumbled, he grabbed her hand, held her tight, and ran twice as hard for the both of them.

They were in it together now, they had to support each other.

And Molly made it all worthwhile.

They'd been everywhere, and in a sense no where, since they always stayed below the radar.

The seasons came and went, and he couldn't help but admire Molly for her persistence, her constant optimism. It was hard to remember that she'd been at this longer than he had, seen even more terrible things. He respected her for that.

They'd run into Chase once, a chance encounter at a 7-11.

"What are you now, her dog?" Chase chuckled when she asked for a slurpee and he'd complied without a fight.

"The kid's tough, amigo," he said, not meeting Chase's eyes, "tougher than me…she deserves…a treat". He'd wanted to say _she deserves better_, but thought it might lead to a conversation he wasn't ready to start.

"She's not much of a kid anymore, Vic," Chase sniffed, eyeing him distastefully, "What's she now? Fifteen?" he shrugged at the question and swallowed heavily.

"Where are you headed next?" he tried to ask, but Chase never answered. He probably didn't know himself, or if he did, wasn't keen on anyone following him. He had lost Gert years ago, and along with her his tether to the world.

"Listen up robot," Chase said as they parted ways, "if you ever hurt her, I'll kill you," he motioned to Old Lace, "and she'll eat your corpse,"

They hadn't seen Chase since.

And now he was getting the distinct impression that were Chase here, he'd be a dead man.

He'd gotten stupid. _Really_ stupid. Like Special Ed stupid.

She'd looked so pretty, too pretty for her own good. Coming out of the steamy bathroom in his old orange jacket, her hair wet and sticking to her face. She'd looked so meek and small.

And he'd told himself _she's just a kid, you've known her since she was twelve_.

And normally that was fine. Normally he'd have shrugged it off and wished her goodnight.

But then she was rushing to him, all eyes and tears and whimpers.

And lips.

_Ay Dios Mio_

Her lips had brushed his neck as she embraced him, and he'd tensed up, eyes locked on hers as she rattled on about anniversaries, and her parents, and the traitor Alex, and how she'd wanted them to be together forever. She went on and on about her feelings as he tried to ignore the growing numbness in his belly, saying she was so sad that the team was gone, so mad at comic books for lying because being a superhero wasn't all that fun, and how…incredibly _happy_ she was that he was with her.

_Thank you for staying with me Victor. _She'd said

When he didn't say anything, she looked at him with those big, blue eyes, and said,

_I really…really need you with me Victor…I need you._

And his resolve snapped.

He'd gotten stupid. Those blue, beautiful eyes had made him the stupidest genius in the world.

He steps into the shower now. It's four in the morning. She's sleeping peacefully.

_But in my bed._ He thinks bitterly.

Phrases like "statutory rape" and "sexual assault" come to mind, but he pushes them away.

He lets the water run over his tense back as he tries to gauge how this will change things.

That's what he hates. The change it will bring.

He knows she'll wake up several hours from now, smile at him and keep quiet until dinner. Then she'll talk about where they're going next or what villain they should watch out for, and they'll pretend everything's back to normal.

And he dreads what will happen when bedtime comes and she'll ask to sleep next to him, because that's just the kind of girl she is.

"She's just a kid," he mutters hoarsely, "barely sixteen, still watches cartoons for chrissakes."

He wants to punch something. Or rather, he wishes someone were there to punch him.

He's scared of what will happen to them. He's scared of what will happen to _her_ if their enemies find out.

And what he's scared of the most is how much he enjoyed it.

He can still feel her hands on his face and the electricity in his brain and the deep satisfaction in his gut.

He's scared he'll want more. He's scared he won't be able to stop.

He's terrified because he knows he loves her.

She knocks on the door suddenly, making him jump and yelp.

"Victor? Hey, when you're done, let's go outside and watch the sunrise…" he bites his lip, forgetting that the water is running cold over his scalp, "and…uh…thank you…for everything…"

He hears her pad away, but doesn't exhale because he knows she's coming back.

"Victor, I need to tell you something…important, but I'll wait until you're done…so, um, hurry up,"

When he doesn't hear anything for a while he relaxes, his forehead poised against the cool shower tile.

Even though he feels like he's going to throw up, and that his legs might give out at any moment, he can't help but smile like an idiot.

He already knows what she wants to tell him. He also gets the distinct impression he won't be able to lie and tell her he doesn't reciprocate. Not with those baby blues locked on him.

_We'll be fine,_ he thinks, _I love that girl…and we'll be fine._

**The End**


End file.
